“Miss Gertrude,” she asked, “will you please let me love you? I’m not anybody’s little girl now.”
Lifting the child to her lap, the young teacher held her close as she murmured tenderly, “Dear, darling little Alise. I know how lonely you must be and indeed I do want you to love me. I was just thinking of my sister Ruth at home and feeling a bit lonely for her. I’ll tell you what,” she added brightly, “you be little sister to me and I’ll be big sister to you. Won’t that be nice?”
The child’s eyes were shining happily, when the nurse reappeared, having realized that Alise must have been left behind. When they were gone Adele came and found Gertrude still seated in the low chair and deep in thought. Sitting on a stool beside her she asked, “What is it, Trudie? Is something troubling you?”
Gertrude put her hand lovingly on her friend’s shoulder as she replied, “Yes, Della, in a way. I was just wondering why some of us have so much love in our lives and others so little. You and I have so many home folks to care for us and here is Alise, scarcely more than a baby, starting to grow up into girlhood with no one to love her. Madame Deriby was telling me about her only this morning. It seems that her mother, who was a beautiful girl, married against a stern father’s wishes and he never forgave her, and when she died, he even refused to see her child. Instead, he had his lawyer bring her here to Linden Hall. Even Madame Deriby does not know who the grandfather is nor where he lives. Now, isn’t that sad? The child will be immensely rich some day, the lawyer said, but oh, Della, money can never take the place of home love.”
Then rising, she added brightly, “Well, Alise is going to have some one to love her, and that some one is her new teacher. Adele, isn’t it queer about these hearts of ours? We think that they are bulging full of love, but, when the need arises, they can always make room for just one more.”
These two girls, as they sauntered toward the tennis-courts, arm in arm, little dreamed that Alise was to bring a wonderful happiness to one of them.
The following Saturday, the equestrian class with Mr. Haley, their riding-master, started out for a canter. The road which they followed led between wide meadows, some purple and gold with autumn flowers and others, where recently cut grass was stacked in fragrant, sun-warmed mounds.
Now and then they passed a neat, white farmhouse with bushes of golden-glow gleaming cheerfully in the dooryards. Then they entered a quiet wood where the maples were turning red and yellow. Beyond the wood a high, ivy-grown stone wall indicated that they were about to pass a country gentleman’s estate. Far back among wide spreading trees, they could catch glimpses of the turrets of a castle-like home.
“Mr. Haley, do you know anything about this place?” Adele inquired.
“It belongs to an old and very wealthy family,” the riding-master replied, “but it has not been occupied for about ten years. I am acquainted with Mr. Diggitt, the head gardener, and, since Elmhurst is one of the finest estates in the countryside, perhaps it would interest you young ladies to canter about the grounds.”